


burn

by itenixol



Category: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc
Genre: Gen, case 3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-15
Updated: 2020-01-15
Packaged: 2021-02-27 07:54:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 929
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22263691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/itenixol/pseuds/itenixol
Summary: Ishimaru looks awful.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 30





	burn

Blood pooled around his feet, staining the bottoms of his tall, black boots. His hands hurt from tightly gripping to the hammer and his knuckles were pale to show. Ishida panted heavily as he glared down upon the corpse of Hifumi and nearly gasped trying to regain his breath from the adrenaline rushing through his veins. His hands were bloody and the front part of his clothing had small specks of blood scattered over them like constellations, and at that moment, Ishida swung at the corpse once more.

He knew Hifumi was dead. But he wanted to show just how much he didn’t care.

The sensation of bashing the now dead student over the head brought dread, and it hung over his head like clouds as he now stared in disgust at the sight of Hifumi’s head bashed in at the side. 

Ishida threw down the hammer soon after and clutched at his heart as if in pain. God, what did he just do? His head stung and the more he tried to claw at his hair, it didn’t go away but only got worse. He was in a room with a dead body and his clothing was stained with his blood and his hands shook and his skin was burning and everything was wrong. He killed Hifumi. He murdered Hifumi. Ishida felt the need to vomit.

“Shit…” he muttered to himself as he leaned up against the shelf in which the hammers hung loosely from. What was he going to do? He couldn’t get away with murder; there was no way he could get away with it! 

His head still throbbed.

Ishida groaned loudly, gasping in pain and yet struggling to breathe all at once. His hair almost seemed to fade to black and his eyes focused and his skin burned. Burned, burned, burned down to the core of his body and bit at his heart and veins and raw flesh. Kiyotaka just killed Hifumi and he was going to be executed for it soon. Today. Later. 

The black haired boy covered his mouth and began to make his way out before realizing how clear his footprints were—bloody and slippery—and shakily pulled them off and carrying them in his hands. He shut the door behind him and carefully made his way down the flights of stairs to his dorm room, knowing that he had plenty of over uniforms he could easily change into. But he did not own another pair of boots.

It was early. The water wasn’t accessible. He settled for tissues. 

He still burned and shook in shock and terror as his hands feverishly scrubbed against the bottoms of his boots, the blood soaking up the tissues much too fast and only shaking up Taka even more. It was hard to just breathe out through his nose so he settled on panting as if he were some wild animal, and if he considered it, he might as well be one. 

His fingers ached as they worked on his boots. Taka tried to clean the crevices and nearly succeeded with it before setting them down and heading to the mirror to look at himself. After all, it would be his last time since.

Ishimaru looks awful. Disgusting.

His hands were dried with blood and his short, shaved hair had blood stuck to it and making it sticky and hard and gross. He would need to shower once it was seven o’clock so that nobody would notice; and then he realized that he was covering up a murder, that he took someone’s life and now he would die as a consequence of it. 

Death. Kiyotaka’s face was warm with life. 

Kiyotaka doesn’t get to go home with his friends.  
Kiyotaka doesn’t get to be happy in his final hours. Kiyotaka doesn’t get to have a happy ending.

What shitty morals. 

Ishimaru’s eyes were as red as the blood he had to wipe away from his own uniform. As red as the blood flowing in his own veins. As red as the blood that stuck to the undersides of his fingernails. His cheeks were red and his nose was red and he thought about how red he was in general, how cold he’d be and how pale he’d be.

Kiyotaka stood there. Stood there in blood that wasn’t his own, stood there with burning skin, stood there with black hair and red eyes, stood there as one soul, stood there while alive, stood there while his fist pulled back, stood there while the deafening sound of the mirror cracking into millions of pieces echoed through his ears, stood there as glass cut through his knuckles, stood there was his own blood flowed from his hands. 

He watched as his uniform’s pants bled crimson, watched as his knees gave out and he collapsed atop himself, watched as his body violently shook and shivered and jerked. Murder was a heavy word. Kiyotaka felt the same sensation in his fingertips he felt when he crushed Hifumi’s skull in… he felt the hammer in his hands and his body was heavy and his eyelids sank. He was so warm but his body pretended as if it were outside freezing in negative weather… 

When he woke up, he was in the courtroom, clutching helplessly onto the stand as Makoto fingered him as the criminal. And he was right as always.

And then he heard the clinking of a metal chain. And then he felt something tight around his neck. And then he felt himself being dragged away from his friends. And then… 

…

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this in 10 minutes. i have a 50+ question math test tomorrow morning


End file.
